Escape the Island of Eldritch Lust

by Amanda Clover

  BAD END

  << START OVER | < SKIP PROLOGUE | INDEX

  Raise their offspring to be helpful

  It has been nearly twenty years since your adventure to rescue your mother and sister from Ctharne. What was once a cursed island of monsters has become a known citadel of the huntresses, a port city named in honor of your mother. Hildasport on the southern shores of Ctharne bustles with merchant ships and emissaries seeking the assistance of the growing order of huntresses you command you’re your sisters. Warrior women, trained to overcome monsters of every type and description, walk the halls of the castle overlooking the harbor. Traders unload their wares on the docks and sailors head to the taverns you permit to flourish.

  It is a beautiful and peaceful city. The people are happy and the farmland that has come to replace the dense, primeval forests on the island’s southern half are secure. There are no bandits. No thieves in the city. Some of that might be Benthas, the ogre guarding the city gates. You can see him scratching his sun-browned head over the top of the gatehouse. He eats half a pig a night in the castle’s dining hall and sleeps in a bed as large as a freight wagon. He has been with you and your sister since the first stones were laid down for this castle.

  He is not the only monster assisting your order. Many others have chosen to join your cause over the years rather than facing death or exile.

  “High huntress,” says Lilyana, one of your hunt leaders. “You look weary. You can retire if you would like. I could answer the remaining solicitations.”

  “Are you certain?” You ask, looking at the long line of delegations waiting to request your order’s assistance. Lilyana nods and you smile wearily. “I am not as young as I once was. Late in the day, I fantasize about stretching out on my bed and seeing my husband.”

  “You’re not so old,” says Lilyana. “Say hello to Kedu from me.”

  You rise from your chair in the audience chamber with a groan. You have grown more voluptuous with the birth of your children and the softening of age. Somehow, Kara remains as fit and toned as ever, despite being older than you. She is on a mission to Vedenheim in the high countries to track down a coven of gargoyles that has taken captive several young women.

  Before leaving Lilyana, you clap a hand on her shoulder and remind her, “Do not trust that perfumed man from Olenhar. There are no minotaurs. He is trying to lure us into a dispute with the Kornasi horsemen. We will not fight with humans.”

  “I’ve seen him try his tricks on you,” says Lilyana, giving you a knowing wink.

  In your private study, you strip out of your red leathers and a don a brown robe. With the hood up, you easily slip out of the castle and into Hildasport undetected. It is a short journey on foot to your modest house beside the bakery and across from the Fletcher’s.

  You find Kedu on the second floor of the house you share with him, hunched over his alchemy equipment as he adjusts the formulation on one of his potions. You steal silently up behind him. He is so wrapped up in measuring out glass droppers of liquid that he does not seem to notice your approach.

  Kedu, being half-gertling, stands four feet tall, with the distinctive long, pointed ears, wide mouth, and long, skinny arms of his father, but a more human coloring and human-like eyes. Kedu’s mother is Kalyn, a veteran huntress who was formerly one of the handmaidens you and your sister rescued from the temple of Zhibbareth. She gave birth to Kedu and his brothers Tarken and Ganden.

  You press against him from behind, letting your robe fall open and the soft mounds of your breasts drop against the back of his head. He groans with pleasure as you slip one hand around his skinny hip and begin to fondle and knead the front of his trousers with your fingers.

  “Mmmmm, Penny,” he says, setting aside his work to turn and face you. “The children are asleep. And you… are home early.”

  “Yes, whatever will we do in such a quiet house?” You kiss him and answer your own question with your overheated ardor. Kedu is unable to resist your charms. His thin lips part and his tongue meets yours in the eager grapple. You feel his modest cock swelling beneath your touch. Your hand slips into his trousers and you begin to stroke him as you kiss.

  He pushes you back, his hands beneath your heavy breasts.

  “You are fertile,” he declares.

  “How do you always know?” You squeeze his hard cock as you ask the question.

  “The way you smell,” he says. “Your desire to be seeded is a powerful aroma. Is this truly what you crave?”

  You already have six pups with Kedu. Two of them are less than a year old. The other four were born in the first litter you gave to the handsome half-gertling. You love your children and adore Kedu, but you had always told yourself that you were nearly forty and far too old for birthing more. Suddenly, the idea seems exciting. You cradle Kedu’s cheeks and gasp, feeling like a smitten you woman.

  “Yes, my love,” you moan. “I need it. I need your seed.”

  Kedu, being a loving husband, does not immediately sheath his cock into your hot channel. He drops to his boney knees and pushes aside your robe. His fingers curl into the gusset of your panties and pull them aside to expose your slick folds. His tongue runs the length of your dewy cunt and you let out a gasping cry of pleasure. You steady yourself with a hand atop his head and your back against his workshop table as Kedu begins to eagerly lap and suck at your pussy.

  “Ohhh, Kedu,” you cry, your thighs quivering and pleasure shooting through your body. His tongue beats furiously against your clit, making you jerk your hips and fuck against his nose, tongue, and chin. Your juices smear his face and his thumbs spread you wider so he can plunge his tongue deep into your tempestuous cove. You wail as his hot tongue thrusts into your clutching channel and drives you to the very edge. You fuck against his mouth, eager to cum.

  Kedu denies you such release. He stands, wipes your juices from his lips, and says to you, “Bend over the table. I will breed you properly, my sweet wife.”

  You command the power of the huntresses of Ctharne, yet you thrill about being told to bend over by your diminutive husband. His assertiveness is what attracted you to him. It is a reminder of your submissive past and a chance to play out your submission in the privacy of your home. You throw your upper body onto the slate of his workshop table, your soft breasts cushioning you as you lift the back of your robe and expose your pale, plump thighs, dripping pussy, and the roundness of your ample ass.

  Kedu smacks your bottom without hesitation, making it jiggle and making you cry with delight. You wiggle your hips, looking back at him with lust heavy eyes as you plead, “Fuck meeeeee.”

  He uses a stepping stool to climb behind you and line his hardness up with the slick entrance of your cunt. He teases your trembling slit and plays his cock up and down your opening; beating his cock against your clit and making you jerk and whimper with need. He grabs your fat ass with one hand and plunges his cock into your steamy pussy. In a stroke he sheaths his modest length in your hungry pit. Your copious juices slurp and drool with each thrust of his cock as his bony hips slap against the soft cushion of your ass.

  “Ohhhhhh, Kedu,” you cry, taking his furious thrusts and clutching tightly at him. Two litters of quarter-gertlings have not loosened your channel. Kara has even taught you exercises to ensure your tightness for your modestly endowed lover. You clench against him and his cock satisfies you like no man you remember. The throbbing tip finds the spot inside you that sends you crashing over the edge. You sprawl against the desk, wailing, “I’m cumming! Oh, my love, I’m cumming for you!”

  “Yes, cum all over my cock,” pants Kedu, ramming you harder and faster. “Squeeze it! Squeeze my cock! Make my seed boil!”

  “Yessss!” You cry desperately, tossing your mostly white hair across your face. “Yes, fill me my love!”

  The hot pump of his cock and the satisfying warmth of his seed filling your fertile cunt sends you sliding into another orgasm. Your inner muscles grip tightly against his spurting cock
and drain Kedu’s cumload. His thrusts slow and he pants with his release. He flops over your back, his bony body warm against you as his cock slowly slips from your creamy channel.

  “I feel it,” you moan. The curse from the island is long gone, but your trained senses can detect the peculiar weight of pregnancy. His seed is settling in your womb and burrowing into your fertile eggs. His cum drips out of your freshly-fucked folds as Kedu lies panting atop your back.

  “My love,” he whispers. “I cannot wait to see your belly swell with my seed.”

  “Oooooh,” you coo, wiggling excitedly at the thought. “Perhaps we should try again, just to be sure.”

  He chuckles. But as you sit him upon the edge of the workshop table and begin licking and suck his flaccid cock, his laughter becomes soft moans of pleasure. You are the queen of the huntresses. With your sister, you command an army of powerful warrior women and emissaries from all the great kingdoms grovel before you. If they could only see you now: on your knees and wantonly slurping on the cum-smeared cock of your half-gertling husband.

  Where you are happiest in all the world.

  “Yessss,” moans Kedu as his cock stiffens in your mouth. “I love you, my beauty.”

  “And I love you,” you reply, swirling your tongue against his glans.

  What strange love can bloom when monsters are treated as equals. Your adventure is at an end, but many more await you as wife, mother, and high huntress of Ctharne.

  THE END

  << START OVER | < SKIP PROLOGUE | INDEX

  Attack

  “We attack together,” you murmur to Kara. “She cannot fend us both off at once.”

  “Gods protect us,” mutters your sister in reply. Those words worry you since you have never known your sister to be particularly religious. This foul chamber seems like the last place on earth the favor of the gods might reach.

  You and Kara charge at your giantess mother, weapons up, but otherwise completely unprotected. You snatch a glimpse of Kara running beside you, her face determined and her naked body flexing with her lean musculature. Her firm bottom and perky breasts hardly shakes at all with each long stride. You race to keep up with her, your breasts bouncing wildly as you scream in unison with your sister and throw yourself at your mother.

  The giantess bats aside your wide swing, taking a glancing blow of your kirana against her forearm and sending you sprawling and nearly senseless on the floor. Kara uses that moment to rush in and attack, driving her blade to the hilt in your mother’s side. The giantess roars with fury, backhanding Kara so that she slides across the floor dislodging tiles. Before Kara can get back up, your mother punches her enormous fist into Kara’s chest and drives your sister back down. The blow leaves Kara helpless and gasping for breath.

  You rise shakily to your fee and struggle to lift your sword. It’s too late. Your mother lifts you up with one hand and slams you onto your face, knocking the last measure of fight out of you.

  “Pathetic,” she snarls, kicking you over onto your back and standing astride you. “Even if you could not see the glory of Zhibbareth, I thought you would at least put up a fight. Your sister is half dead and you are no stronger than you were as a child.”

  She leans over you, her nostrils flaring and her dangling breasts dripping milk onto your bruised body. Her snarling face fills your view.

  “Unworthy of Zhibbareth’s blessing. Not even worthy of the Exalted Convent.” She turns to the armored guards and shouts, “Drag these disgraceful whores down to the breeding pits. They deserve no better.”

  You hear the heavy thump of boots. Strong hands grab you by your arms and drag you across the floor. Kara moans softly as she is dragged along beside you.

  You try to lift your head, but you are beaten. Your attempt to slay your mother has condemned you to Zhibbareth’s breeding pits.

  CONTINUE >

  The path to Rhilath

  The path from the swamps gently slopes upwards and the trees obscure much of what lies ahead. As the hours pass the sun slowly comes out, but the haze which shrouds the island grows deeper, and the yellow disk looks ill hanging in the heavens.

  You and Kara soldier on though. What else is there to do? But the knowledge that your journey nears it ends sends your heart palpitating in your chest. At last, you crest a hill and stop.

  A wooded valley runs below you, but you pay it little heed. Your eyes are fixed upward, for you see the end of your journey at last.

  The mountain of the island rears high before you in a ragged peak. Black clouds cluster there, swirling in a slow vortex at the tip. Below, you can see the ruins of the city sprawling at its base. Broken buildings of cyclopean stone scattered and rent, but here and there you spot some, rising like tombstones once more into the sky. Slaves in tattered clothes labor on them, their bodies marked by whip and claws. Drivers move among them, black robed figures bearing thorny whips, accompanied by hulking hybrid monsters before which the slaves cringe and cower.

  And beyond them, you see the temple. A breath of awe escapes you. Built into the front of the mountain, a vast pyramidal structure of blackest stone, dwarfing even the greatest of the ruins around it. Only the mountain is taller than it, and its vastness looms over everything. A pall seems to radiate from it.

  As you stare down at the ruined city, something seems to change with it. Its shape shimmers, and suddenly you see not the ruins it is now, but what it once was! Towers black rear into the sky. Massive temple grounds sprawl across the plateau and statues stand tall. The whole place is one vast many tiered city. What you saw was merely the greatest of it.

  But, the longer you stare, the less complete the image becomes. The grandeur fades, but never vanishes. Rather, it’s like two images superimposed upon the other. Past intrudes upon the present like a phantom. The memory of what once was, what will be should the ancient one return.

  “There,” Kara says softly. “Rhilath.”

  “It’s a spell,” you say with a breath.

  Kara looks your way, taking an effort to tear her eyes from the sight of the immense temple. “What?”

  “A spell. A memory almost. The Great One isn’t through yet. It can’t be. But it’s… it’s remembering what it was. What was. Here. Try squinting at it. Look at it from the corner of your eye.”

  Kara seems dubious but does so. Her eyes narrow and she leans forward a little. She gasps. “You’re right! I can see the ruins.”

  “There’s still time,” you say, your voice firm with conviction. “We can still stop it.”

  Kara nods firmly. Hope, for the first time since you found your sister, blooms in your chest. You nod at her, and begin descending the hill and into the woods, the unspoken agreement about not taking the obviously guarded road clear.

  The tall trees soon obscure the sight of the temple, but its presence is clearly felt. The trees here seem bloated, with ill colored sap oozing from the bark as if from open wounds. Despite knowing it’s nearly noon, the sky darkens the nearer you come. The sun blotted out by the evil emanating from the temple. The ground squishes wetly and the grass has an ill look to it.

  You’ve been walking for nearly an hour when the low drum of hoof beats reaches your ears.

  “Shit,” Kara snarls.

  “Hurry!”

  You and your sister try to run but the dense undergrowth hampers your efforts. In a space of a few gasping breaths you realize how useless the attempt is. The twisted forest closes about you. Roots seem to rise beneath your feet to trip you and branches tangle in your hair. In a matter of minutes you are exhausted. And always the drum of your pursuer draws nearer.

  “We can’t keep this up,” you gasp.

  Kara nods reluctantly, and together you turn to face the forests.

  The thunder of hoof beats grow louder. You glimpse a dark shape racing through the trees. The forest seems to part, and your pursuer bursts into sight.

  It’s a centaur. Or something like it. It sports six equine legs and a broad bare chest. A
ntlers like a deer’s curl from his brow and he carries a bow slung over his shoulder. His upper arms have a texture like bark, ending in fingers like old gnarled roots. His eyes are black as pitch, and his face has the sharp, flat features of something almost human, but not quite.

  He wears his wild masculinity about himself like a mantle. He rears, hooves pawing at the air, and revealing a thick equine cock beneath. He crashed down again, tossing his head and wild mane of hair.

  You tense at the sight of the monster, gripping your sword warily. He paces before you, hooves clopping at the ground as he maneuvers about you. Circling like a wolf having cornered his prey.

  “Ho! A short chase for fair prey!” he booms in a voice like the wind through the trees. The twisted branches and their mossy vines seem to quiver with his voice. “So you are the invaders upon my Master’s realm,” the centaur says. “Upon My forest. You be neither cultists nor monsters, and even were thee either, so still I would demand a toll. Therefore you must be invaders unto His kingdom! What say you, mortal curs?”

  For answer, Kara goes for her knife. Almost casually, the centaur sweeps a gnarled hand towards her and the trees sway as if caught in a sudden wind. As you sister draws her blade and winds it up to throw, the vines of the trees behind her lash out, tangling in her arms like writhing tentacles.

  “Kara!” You scream as your sister is dragged into the air and against the trunk. More vines latch onto her, binding her to the tree. You whirl on the centaur. “Let her go!”

  The centaur laughs. “A spirited one! I shall, once she has been broken to me. And you as well my dear,” he adds, dark eyes fixing on you. His hand tightens to a fist and Kara lets out a cry of surprise as the tree’s sap oozes onto her skin. The forest about you rustles with a hissing of leaves like live serpents.